


dj got us falling in love again

by sundaycandy (tickingclocks)



Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: Bisexuality, Dialogue Heavy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Internalized Homophobia, LGBTQ Character of Color, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8161583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tickingclocks/pseuds/sundaycandy
Summary: "What Shao doesn't know won't hurt him, he figures. They were always a bit more physically intimate with each other than most straight boys their age, but luckily no one ever saw the need to comment on it. If they were supposed to be lovers, then so be it. It wouldn't mean he'd have to kiss Shao's round, supple--his lips, Zeke reminds himself.Or the fake relationship fic this fandom NEEDS. Inspired by pessimisticfangirl's list of excellent shao/zeke prompts on tumblr :)





	1. under pressure

**Author's Note:**

> the title's corny asf but i've been listening to usher all day don't judge me
> 
> each chapter title will be a song from the 70's thats been sampled in modern day/90s rap :). unfortunately the only fitting thing i could think of for this chapter is the sample for goddamn ice ice baby :/
> 
> also quick disclaimer the n word will be used a few times in this fic so jsyk im black 
> 
> another nother disclaimer this wont be too angsty dont worry! thats not rly a disclaimer but w/e idc lets get on w this!

“Shao! Man, Shao, slow down!” Zeke chases after the red-clad teen as he marches out of the upscale nightclub. Shao whips around, his lips screwed together tight, and his nostrils so flared Zeke swears he can see up them.

“Fuck you want? I’m not going back to that punk bitch for no damn coins I can earn myself. We out, B, and there’s no sweet little words you can say to make me change my mind.”

Zeke sucks his teeth. “You don’t get it, Shao. Pakoussa practically runs the New York music scene. You saw what he did for Mylene–he can do it for you too!“

“Do you really not know, nigga? You can’t see all of a sudden? He was eyeing the fuck out of the dude by the booth. The way they kept talking to each other…” He kicks at the gravel crunching underneath him, miraculously not scuffing up his perpetually pristine pumas. “Hell, this whole joint stinks of something ripe.” He couldn’t shake the way one of the bouncer’s had been sizing up Zeke. At first he assumed that the guy was making sure he wasn’t an immediate threat, but upon further thought, and with what he observed inside, the man had been definitely checking Zeke out. It made him queasy.

Zeke pauses, beating his closed fists together before saying, “Well, yeah, everyone knows Pakoussa’s… _gay_. All the big DJ’s are. Didn’t Flash tell you that?”

And, just like that a finger is pointed in his face. Zeke’s surprised Shao doesn’t still have the sword on him. “Fuck are you implying about the Grandmaster?!”

“Nothing, Jesus, chill! I just thought that, seeing as _you_ a DJ, _working_ for another DJ, always _surrounded_ by DJs, that you’d be a lil more in the know.”

“Well, none of the niggas I run with are like that, so you can take all ya little assumptions on somewhere else, aight?”

“Aight. Okay,” Zeke sighs. This conversation wasn’t going to be pretty but Shao really could be so fucking stubborn sometimes. “But, the Grandmaster sent us down here for a reason. If Pakoussa’s the only way we can complete the quest, then so be it. You just gotta remix a couple songs for him, not marry him.”

“Nah, you don’t get it. I got an image ‘round here, okay? I can’t be out on these streets with people knowing I’m working with some–” He couldn’t bring himself to lay any verbal abuse on the near stranger. A part of him still felt sick. “This is some bull. I know these missions ain’t supposed to be easy, but why would Flash set me up like this?” Shao looks genuinely hurt–betrayed almost. Zeke fights the urge to hug him. 

“I don’t think it’s that deep, Shao. He just wants what’s best for you.”

Shao shakes his head, whether more at Zeke or at himself, he doesn’t know. “I can’t be in this kinda environment, Books. Plus, SoHo gives me straight _hives_.”

Zeke places his hands on both of Shao’s shoulders, ducking his head down slightly so he’s eye-to-eye with the shorter boy. “You wanna go back to the temple then? We can just chill, listen to some music, smoke as much as you want until you feel a bit better.” A silent “and maybe try this again, tomorrow” hung in the air, not unnoticed by Shao, but accepted nonetheless.

“Fine,” quietly agrees Shao, his eyes still trained on Zeke’s. He opens his mouth to say something else before clearing his throat. “Let’s dip before I pass out from these gay ass fumes.”

Zeke rolls his eyes goodnaturedly. “It don’t even smell bad, Sh–” A sudden realization dawns on him and he releases Shao. “ _Shit_.”

“What happened?”

He stares, wide eyed at his friend for a moment with his hand covering his mouth, before removing it and saying, “I left the Isley Brothers track inside.”

“Goddammit, Books,” groans Shao as he waves Zeke away to retrieve the record.

He sneaks back inside the club through the backdoor Shao had stormed out of just a few minutes earlier. He quickly finds Pakoussa and a couple of his close associates in the same spot they had been in before all hell had sprung loose. The club wasn’t open yet; now that the summer had came and went, the discotheque had to open up later in the evening in time for it’s usual denizens to get off of work.

“You’re back,” calls out the famed DJ upon noticing Zeke. “That didn’t take long at all. Where your _friend_ at?”

Zeke ignores the knowing way he says "friend”, as if he knew anything at all about Shao or him. “Uh, sorry Mr. Pakoussa, sir, but my friend caught some cold feet. We’ll be back here tomorrow, though. Shaolin’s real excited ‘bout working with you.” This was a boldface lie if Zeke had ever heard one, but Pakoussa seemed none the wiser.

“That’s great. I’ve been thinking I need some help around here with making sure everyone stays hustlin’ and boogyin’ and freak’n. And, with what I’ve heard about you and this Shaolin Fantastic, y’all two are the only ones for the job.” Zeke bows his head, a little flattered by the DJ’s words. When he raises his head once more, he spots the record balancing on the edge of a table close to the stage. Pakoussa, thankfully, realizes what the boy is looking at and grabs it for him.

“I was wondering why you left this here. I mean, this is my jam, don’t get me wrong, but I got about three of these lying around in my living room.“ Zeke laughs, easily, unsure if it’s because of the open atmosphere of the relatively empty club or because of the DJ’s smooth voice. He likes it, it’s smooth like the Grandmaster’s was fixating and commanding. Smooth like syrup poured lovingly over a warm stack of butterscotch colored pancakes. Smooth like the soft, deep brown skin of another DJ he knew.

“Oh,” goes Pakoussa, startling Zeke out of whatever the hell he was just in. “And one more thing, kid. Don’t bring any of ya little friends around here if they’re not down.”

“Huh? Down with what?”

“We can’t have no, y’know, heterosexual folk in here disturbing the peace, ya dig? This is where we go to be,” he puts a finger to his chin. “Like how your friend put it, that honey Mylene? It’s where we go to set ourselves free. Now, ain’t nobody gonna feel very free when you invite a bunch of people who are just there to watch them like caged animals in a zoo.”

“What? But we’re–” he stops himself. Wait. It was all starting to make sense now. _He thinks me and Shao…well shit_. As if the slightly older teen hadn’t already felt some type of way about just working with a known gay icon, he was going to flip the absolute fuck out if he were to find out everyone thought that he and Zeke were an item. Zeke himself couldn’t even really fathom it…well, he told himself as much.

He halts whatever thought that was about to pop up next in his head. Shao was still waiting outside and he was already in a pissy mood. “Yeah, you right. You don’t got nothing to worry about, it’ll just be me and Shao anyways.”

“Perfect. It was nice doing business with you, kid. That Mylene had nothing but good things to say about you.” He winks and it’s all over in what felt like a flash, a quick spin of a record, or words written down just as they appeared in Zeke’s mind.

Once he’s politely shoved out of the premises, he locks eyes with Shao immediately. The other boy wraps an arm around Zeke, and begins to pull him away with a particular pep in his step. "Bout damn time you came back. I’m hungry as fuck, B. Wanna grab something to eat and then head over to mine?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he replies, absentmindedly. He can barely remember how to use his own two feet, and his brain is barraged with question after question: _Why does he think me and Shao are gay? Does he really think we’re…together? How am I supposed to tell Shao all this? Does Flash know?_

It’s the warmth of Shao’s toned arm that brings Zeke back to Earth. The DJ had been going on about something–Zeke caught the word “pigeon” and assumes it’s about Shao’s wish to restart his pigeon pen after the fire burned it and the rest of his dreams to ash. He chances a look at the older boy and can’t help but smile. The dying mid-September sun hits Shao’s face like the lights up at Times Square (a place Zeke’s only been to a couple times, most recently because of Mylene and her business downtown). The DJ’s sudden change of spirit sets Zeke at peace, but there’s something else that just leaves the younger teen feeling dizzy. Maybe SoHo _did_ smell weird? But, deep down he knows it’s not that. Either he suddenly had chronic vertigo that was triggered solely by the presence of Shao’s pearly white smile, or, well, something else, because this had been going on for a while now. Shao would say something funny or do one of his far too provocative dance moves, and it would send Zeke’s constantly tender heart to a flutter. Maybe he just liked seeing the so-often stressed boy in a state of content. That had to be it.

What Shao doesn’t know won’t hurt him, he figures. They were always a bit more physically intimate with each other than most straight boys their age, but luckily no one ever saw the need to comment on it. If they were supposed to be lovers, then so be it. It wouldn’t mean he’d have to kiss Shao’s round, supple– _his lips_ , Zeke reminds himself. They wouldn’t have to hold hands or call each other cutesy nicknames. They were there to work, and that’s what they would do. Sure, maybe every now and then, he would have to lean a little bit closer into Shao’s space than usual, perhaps let his hands linger on Shao’s shoulders a little longer than socially acceptable–so what? They were always like this, from the moment they decided they’d rather work together than be at each other’s throats over a record. Shao would hardly notice the difference. They would land this great opportunity, the Grandmaster would be proud of them, and they’d be gaining influence around the city thanks to one of the biggest names in their small DJ world. Nothing would have to change between the two of them.

 _Nothing,_ thinks Zeke, as Shao’s unmistakably _cute_ giggle at his own joke sends a round of faux karate kicks to his stomach. _Nothing at all_.


	2. ooh, child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i uploaded this 2 days later than i said i would so sorry about that! but luckily this chapter is longer than the last one so :)
> 
> chapter title from "ooh, child" by the five starstripes (1970), sampled by 2pac in "keep ya head up" (1993)
> 
> warnings for a lil more internalized homophobia :/

"Grasshopper!" Is Grandmaster Flash's greeting as Shao climbs through the window of his apartment. "I hope you return with good news. How did the meeting with Pakoussa go?"

 

Shao scrubs a hand over his face and steels himself for what he hopes is a quick and easy confrontation. "Listen, Grandmaster, I don't wanna sound rude or nothing, but what you pulled was far from funny. You always say this shit ain't a game, so why'd you play me?"

 

Flash twists a little in his rotating chair. "Though I know not what you mean, I'm going to assume you have some concerns about...?"

 

"Please don't talk to me like I'm some little boy. You know what you did. Got me looking all sorts of foolish by sending me down to _fairyland._ And then you had the nerve to make Zeke come with me too? Shit just ain't right, Grandmaster."

 

"Shaolin, after what we talked about a few weeks ago--"

 

"I told you to forget that conversation ever happened. You said you'd respect my wishes," he replies, the volume of his voice rising.

 

"That I did."

 

"So why are you bringing this shit back up? It's over, it's done. It never _happened_." He whips around to face away from his mentor. "I'm the lady killing romantic, man. I don't got time for this mess."

 

"So that's just it? You're going to bury your feelings and hide them away like a coward? What we do with our music, Shao, is bravery. It's magic, it's freeing--"

 

"Yeah, the _music's_ freeing. I ain't trying to get all that free, though. I'm fine where I am, Grandmaster. Spinning these records is more than enough for me. All the bullshit, and I mean _all_ of it, disappears when I'm behind a turntable. I don't need that...that 'free people' nonsense."

 

Flash sighs, but elects to drop the point. "Alright. But, next time you want to come over here at two in the morning, drunkenly blubbering about how some ol' waterheaded boy don't like you--"

 

"Shut--" he's about to finish that sentence when he remembers who he's talking to. Flash may have only been two years older than him, but he still saw him as an authority figure. "Just let it go, aight?" He drops his head. "Please?"

 

Flash exhales, and rolls over to a shelf to grab a record. "Have you heard the get down part in this new Chaka Khan joint? It takes a bit to find it, but I think you and your crew are gonna have some fun with this one."

 

Tension leaves Shao's body as he nods, grateful that he doesn't have to talk about his ridiculous ass feelings for another second. He sits and listens, trying his hardest to not imagine the rhymes his wordsmith would weave for the beat. It wouldn't matter anyway. Zeke always knew how to surprise him.

 

* * *

 

Later that day, the DJ and his wordsmith are chilling in the temple when Zeke brings up the inevitable.

 

"I'm not going back there, that's final. The Grandmaster can't force me to do nothing."

 

Zeke rolls his eyes. "But, Shao--"

 

"'But Shao' nothing! That's the one thing I won't do. Sorry, Books."

 

"Listen, if you won't do it for Flash or for yourself, at least do it for me? I feel like I need to play catch-up to everyone else when it comes to this music thing. Last summer took a lot out of me, man--all work, and work, and _work_. I wanna get in on this shit with you, y'know? This way I can stay on my grind while also doing something I love with my boy." God, sometimes Shao can't stand just how earnest the boy could be. He swallows the lump growing in his throat.

 

"You sure 'bout this, B? People are gonna talk. If we do this we gotta keep it under-wraps from all these other wannabe motherfuckas. Do you know how much shit the Notorious 3 would have over us if they found out we were collaborating with the king of the gays?"

 

"Fuck, you right." Zeke bites his lip. "Man, they a bunch of bozos, anyway. They wouldn't be caught dead around the club, and I doubt they even know anyone who _does_ fuck around there, so." He takes a swig from the bottle of booze that was sitting invitingly near Shao's ratty mattress. "We good, Shao. There's nothing to worry about."

 

"If you say so..." He takes a breath. "Just know I'm not just doing this shit for you. Flash sent me on a quest, and a true warrior always completes his quest."

 

"Of course," affirms Zeke, stone-faced, before his mouth forms a shit-eating grin. Shao shoves him playfully in response, muttering something about taking him more seriously, which is subsequently ignored. The two are giggling at this point, and after a round of pushing, are both lying flat on the bed next to each other. Content smiles take control of their lips as they face one another, a comfortable silence laying like a warm blanket over them. It's only when the loud honk of a car horn sounds somewhere far off that they're broken out of the trance.

 

Zeke clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck anxiously. "Uh, you wanna head over now, or?" Shao jerks his head into a nod, and practically sprints towards the door, hoping that the sooner they're at the club, the sooner they can forget whatever the hell just happened.

 

After an uneventful ride on the train, they make it to the club and are greeted by the same bouncer from yesterday. He crosses his arms and widens his stance as they get closer. "No entry before six, boys."

 

Zeke shakes his head. "Nah, we're the guys from yesterday, remember? The ones Pakoussa met with? If you ask him, I'm sure he'll let--"

 

"Wait, yeah I remember you two." Though this is directed towards the both of them, the bouncer's eyes remain solely on Zeke. His eyes trail down the teen's lanky form, before returning to face them as if he hadn't just been imagining eating the boy alive. Shao's right hand twitches, the regret from leaving his trusty sword at home rising.

 

Zeke remains just as oblivious as ever. _Jesus_. "So, we can go in?"

 

"Not quite. What business y'all got with Pakoussa, anyway?"

 

Shao snaps, "none of your fucking business" just as Zeke goes, "he didn't tell you?"

 

The bouncer ignores both of them in favor of saying, "He don't usually work with your kind."

 

"Our kind? What? 'Cause we from the Bronx? He don't fuck with us 'cause we from the trenches?"

 

"Boy, what are you talking about?"

 

"He's joking! Just joking," Zeke steps in quickly. "Uh...we're, y'know, _down._ Don't worry, Pakoussa knows." To prove his point, he wraps an arm around Shao's shoulders (he would've gone for the waist, but Shao was already tense enough), and uses his free hand to pat Shao's chest. This is normal enough for the two of them, but the older teen is still left confused. _Down with what? Fuck does Pakoussa know?_

The bouncer nods, stiff and quick, and has the decency to look a little ashamed. Though Shao still doesn't know what's going on, he's happy that the guy seems to finally back off.

 

He ushers them inside, and it's not until after they step through the beaded curtains that lead to the main lounge that Shao realizes Zeke's hand is still spread over his chest. As much as he wants to say something, he can't help but stew in the warmth that it sends to his heart.

 

They approach the DJ, who is polishing an already shiny record. Zeke finally let's his hand fall once Pakoussa gets up to greet them, and Shao secretly mourns the loss. His arm still remains around him, and he can feel Zeke slightly leaning into the touch.

 

"Boys! Y'all here to negotiate?"

"Yeah, I hope the deal Grandmaster Flash set up is still on the table," Shao says, tentatively. He only feels a little sorry about storming out in the middle of their discussion yesterday. Almost.

 

"Of course. You remix three songs for me, I give you and your 'Get Down Brothers' some exposure and give this _hip hopping_ thing a try. I still think its too much for this club but what's the point in living if you never try something new, right?"

 

"Don't forget them paychecks, man. Flash said there'd be physical payoff."

 

"He did, did he? Alright, lemme tell you what: five bucks for the first remix, and then once we see how the crowd likes that, I'll up it to ten a piece. Sound good?"

 

"That's chump change, man. This is our artistic property we're basically hand delivering to you, and you just gonna pinch pennies like that?"

 

"So, then what do you suggest?"

 

"Ten for the first remix, then twenty _when_ the crowd loves it."

 

"Hm, nice offer, but how about this? I slide you $5 like I already said, and _then_ raise it to $20. We in agreement?"

 

"How you gonna play us out of just five extra dollars?"

 

"It's a deal!" Zeke breaks in, grabbing Shao's arm and ignoring the strong stink eye he's giving him. He looks around and sees a hallway not too far away from them. "Mind if my man and I discuss some things for a bit? Won't take long." Pakoussa nods his head, a strange, knowing grin on his face that causes Zeke's relatively pale cheeks to flush. Shao allows himself to be dragged away, but grumbles under his breath until they're out of Pakoussa's earshot.

 

Before Shao can ask why the _fuck_ Zeke thinks he can call any of the shots, he's lightly pushed against the wall near a dressing room.

 

"We ain't in the Bronx no more, Shao. We gotta take what we can get."

 

"Nah, that's what those white dudes in suits taught you at that trash internship, B. I'm not falling for that, especially not from some bitch."

 

Zeke hushes him. "We got a good thing going here. Lets just roll with it, okay? It's only five bucks."

 

Shao's ready to protest when Zeke grabs his hand, which, okay, that's a little new. He notices a dancer passing them to enter the dressing room, smiling at them before closing the door. Zeke doesn't let go once they're alone, instead squeezing his hand and whispering, "we're gonna go back out there and we're gonna see how Pakoussa runs this joint. Once we get a picture of what the crowd wants, we're gonna give it to them ten-fucking-fold. You'll work your magic like you always do, I know you will. It'll be the easiest buck you've ever made, Shao. Way easier than working for those crooks up at Les Inferno."

 

"Don't start," he _hated_ when Zeke wouldn't let his business with Fat Annie go. Zeke didn't know anything. He didn't know just how deep he was in, and it was going to stay that way.

 

Zeke rolls his eyes. "Sorry, but you get what I'm saying, right?"

 

"Loud and clear, B." Shao uses the hand not occupied by Zeke's grip to straighten his cap. With an exhale, he pushes himself off the wall. "Let's make some magic, then."

 

 

* * *

The patrons of the club start flowing in fashionably late around 6:30, which should have given the boys more than enough time to emotionally prepare themselves for the night.

 

Turns out that no amount of wishing and half-assed prayers could prepare them for what they were to see.

 

People of all genders were grinding and leaping and dropping all around them, not leaving a space of room on the dance floor unclaimed. Everyone acted as if they knew each other even if they didn't, with kisses and hugs being exchanged without a bat of an  eye. Couples of all kinds cuddled up with each other on the plush sofas lining the joint, while drag queens and trans women twirled on stage as others watched with baited breath. People who seemed to not adhere to any sort of gender binary laughed and sung and danced as power ballads and disco hits were conducted by Pakoussa's hand.

 

The club had an entirely different feel than Les Inferno. While Les Inferno was a cesspool for Fat Annie's nefarious dealings, the type of place you go when you're trying to prove something to somebody, a place where all eyes were on you if you stepped out of line, the little slice of paradise they were at was nothing but color and light and life and _freedom_. There was no one breathing over Shao's shoulder, no possibility of being caught with just a knife at a gun fight, no predators preying on the naive. It was just people allowing themselves to _be,_ and despite Shao's overall reservations about the whole thing, he still envied everyone there.

 

The boys eventually decide to take a seat on one of the sofas themselves, as they had no business on anybody's dance floor (Shao could dance, don't get him wrong, but he had no idea how to keep up with the type of music that was playing or the other club-goers). They were in awe as they watched and listened, allowing all of their senses to be manipulated by the lively club.

 

The woman--or at least Shao assumes she's a woman--who had passed them on her way to the dressing room saunters over to them, and passes Shao a joint. When Shao's head recoils, she laughs an airy, low laugh and plops herself down next to the boy.

 

"You're clearly new. What's your name? You can call me Darla." 

 

Shao blinks, then sighs. He supposes being polite wouldn't hurt. "I'm Shao, and ol' boy right here is Zeke." Zeke waves, looking only slightly more uncomfortable than Shao.

 

"Nice, nice." She squints her eyes at them, noting their proximity and what she had seen only a couple hours prior in the hallway. "So, how did you two meet?"

 

Shao almost beams at the question before turning to Zeke. He could probably go on about this all day. "It's a pretty wild story, not gonna lie." Zeke snorts and the brightness of his eyes encourage Shao to continue the story. "Technically the first time we saw each other was during a stick-up at a record store. Man, that day was something else, wasn't it, B?"

 

"I thought your ass was as good as dead, but I was so concerned about some damn record--"

 

"Right, this boy was willing to die over that thing. Our first real conversation was him begging me to slice his ass because of it." The boys burst into a fit of cackles. The whole thing had seemed so ridiculous in retrospect--from Zeke's causing of multiple scenes in public to Shao's over-dramatic reenactment of a Jim Kelly performance--but at the end of the day neither of them would've traded that ill-fated day for the world.

 

"Yeah," begins Zeke, almost too fondly. "I'll never forget that day."

 

Shao's fingers itch for something, more than likely the joint that had been just offered to him. He can tell that Zeke's gonna say some fake deep, way too emotional shit that he's just not ready for. He figures he should try to turn the tide."Because we almost got killed?"

 

"Nah, because I met you," Zeke says in that deep, gravelly voice of his and the waves come crashing down. He's looking far too deep into his eyes and Shao can't handle it.

 

He finally takes the joint that's dangling between Darla's thin fingers. He kinda forgot that she was still there, and he can tell Zeke has too. She's cooing softly at the exchange and heat rises to Shao's cheeks.

 

"Y'all are just too cute. I remember being all young and giddy and in--" she's about to finish her sentence when another dancer, who Shao guesses might be a drag queen, calls her over as the song changes to something even more upbeat than the last one. "Uh-oh, looks like its time for me to get back on stage, boys. It was nice talking to you. Hopefully y'all will stick around?"

 

Zeke nods. "We'll be here most nights. We got a thing with Pakoussa."

 

"Oh, excellent," the drag queen calls Darla again and she groans. She bids her adieu and joins the other dancer on stage, leaving Shao and Zeke alone.

 

Shao takes a drag of the joint before passing it off to Zeke. He's had enough. Darla was about to say something, something _wrong,_ and he didn't know how he would've reacted if she had actually said it out loud. "Don't you got homework, schoolboy? We should head out soon."

 

"Man, I'll do that shit later." Zeke blows smoke out through his lips--his lips that Shao _most certainly_ isn't staring at. "Plus, school's only been in session for a couple weeks; we don't got much going on just yet."

 

"I see," says Shao, leaving it at that. He can tell Zeke wants to ask him something, probably why he doesn't go to school in the first place, but Shao changes the subject before it can get to that level. "Once you're done with school tomorrow, you and the rest of the crew can come over so I can show you what me and Flash've been working on with that Chaka Khan track. It's dope, B. Notorious 3 ain't got nothing on us."

 

"Well, we all know _that,_ but I can't wait. I'm sure it's perfect--everything you make is." Shao can feel his face heating up again, and his mind is taken back to him and Zeke on the roof of his old place, looking out at what was soon to be their kingdom, feeling on top of the world. _You a natural everything_. Good lord, he was too far gone for this kid.

 

Which...was something he wasn't supposed to be acknowledging. He wasn't supposed to take every little compliment that exited Zeke's mouth to heart. He wasn't supposed to wish for the touch of their hands, or their lips. He wasn't supposed to cry like a fucking baby over _anyone_ , let alone another _man_.

 

* * *

 

 _"This is path-e-e-etic,"_ Shao had forced out while sobbing in the corner of Flash's room. He had drunken two too many bottles of rum, and was now a sniveling mess over something that was supposed to stay secret until his (most likely untimely) death.

 

_"I've never seen you so beaten up over anyone like this. Not to sound insensitive, but if its some broad from that club you've been working at, you should get over her. No one's worth all these tears, Shao."_

 

 _"I--it's not,"_ another sniff. God, this was embarrassing. He was already regretting coming over. _"It's not someone from Les Inferno. It's...fu-u-uck."_

_"Then who is she? What she do to you?"_

 

 _"It's not a--I mean, nothing. They didn't do nothing and that's the problem? I think? I don't even know, man!"_ He buried his head into his hands. _"He just broke up with his girl 'cause she had to work too much across the bridge, and I guess my stu-upid ass thought that--that he'd want me instead for some reason. But, nothing happened and everything's the same but it feels so different and I'm crying like a little bitch because--"_ he broke into another sob. He didn't even care that he'd essentially just confessed to harboring feelings for a dude--well at least he didn't care at the time. His head had been too clouded by drink and the foul stench of rejection to care about anything else.

 

It hadn't even really been because Zeke didn't dip him into one of those big, dramatic movie kisses immediately after breaking it off with Mylene. It was more-so the fact that he had always assumed that Mylene had been the sole reason they weren't together yet (which was a ridiculous assumption, he soon realized after recalling just how dangerous it was to be attracted to the same gender in their city--even though New York was supposedly the most accepting place on the east coast). To him, if Zeke still wasn't into him, then was he really meant to only be loved by some nasty old wench that took advantage of him in every way possible? Was that his only hope?

 

Before he knew it, Flash had sat down next to him. _"It's your wordsmith, isn't it?"_ At this, all Shao could do was bow his head in shame. Flash would hate him now, he'd throw him out just as easily as he had before over the bootleg incident. The last person he saw as family would cut him off just like that-- _"He's a sucker if he doesn't see how much light he puts into your life, Shao. I may have only met him a handful of times, but if he's really as special as you make him out to be, he'll come to his senses, alright?"_ Shao lifted his head in shock. Why wasn't he banning him from DJing for eternity? _"Still, he's just another teenage boy, Shaolin. Nothing to cry over, okay?"_ He pulled a box of tissues seemingly out of thin air, and placed it in Shao's lap.

 

The boy looked up, his cheeks tear stained and snot running from his nose, but he attempted a smile. _"Thanks, Grandmaster."_

 

* * *

 

"Shao?"

 

The teen is brought from his reverie by his friend's voice. God, that voice could rouse him out of anything. Regardless, he's in too deep--there's no way he can get out of this without drowning.

 

"Sorry, I, uh," he focuses himself. "It's getting late. We know what these folks want. No use in overstaying our welcome."

 

"Yeah...I guess." Zeke looks uncertain, but Shao forces himself not to care. They promptly leave the club, not without a wave towards Pakoussa, and are soon left in the cold darkness of the night.

 

They catch the first train back to the Bronx, and halfway through the ride, Zeke is half asleep and leaning his big ol' head on Shao's shoulder. As annoyed as he wants to be, he lets Zeke slowly nod off, figuring that he can just crash at the temple if he's too knocked out to get back to his tía's place.

 

The train car's fairly empty, with the only other people on it being too far away and too indifferent to the two teens for them to notice if Shao places a kiss on the top of Zeke's head. Despite this, he doesn't, and stares into his lap instead. _You're a coward, just like the Grandmaster said,_ he can't help but think, even though he knows deep down that it's not true. He stares at Zeke's sleeping face again, and feels the corners of his lips rise.

 

He rests his own head in the other boy's hair. _Someday. Maybe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked it! the chaka khan song that's mentioned is "i'm every woman" btw. i kno the song came out a year after the events of tgd but lets just roll w it lmao

**Author's Note:**

> hope y'all liked it :) you can find me @ wakandanqueen.tumblr.com to talk more about the get down!!! seriously guys send me ur headcanons i live for them


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